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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188951">Oathbound</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae'>ohmyfae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dimitri is Tired, Faerie AU, M/M, Sex, Side Sylvain/Felix, hatesex that isn’t actually hatesex because these sad dudes love each other sort of, magical curses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:54:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where Dimitri is the king of the Seelie Court, and Felix is a half-fae noble bound by oath to obey his orders. When Dimitri breaks a promise and gives Felix an order he would rather not obey, Felix comes to him later to deal with the consequences.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Oathbound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first FE3h fic, and of course it is chock full of angst. This is actually part of a much longer AU that I... may be working on... since my hours at work have been shortened. Good times!</p><p>I blame dustofwarfare for all of this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dimitri.”</p><p>Felix of House Fraldarius stands in the thick of a dark, mud-churned battleground at the edge of the Seelie Court, and lays his hand on the pommel of his sword. The Unseelie soldiers of Emperor Edelgard’s army cower back from them, their last officer holding up the hand-sign for surrender, but Dimitri, true king of the Seelie Court, knows that Edelgard won’t bat an eye at a simple skirmish at the border of her kingdom. He slides his gaze over the soldiers who even now have dropped their weapons to the rain-drenched earth, and turns to Felix.</p><p>Felix, who hasn’t called him by his true name in five years. </p><p>Felix, whose ashen, snarling face is all too human, bound by oath as all half-fae of House Fraldarius to obey his king. The others in Dimitri’s employ would balk at this. Would turn aside. Felix is the only one who wouldn’t.</p><p>Who <i>can’t.</i></p><p>“Don’t do this,” Felix says. It sounds uncomfortably like a plea, foreign and strange on Felix’s tongue. </p><p>“Kill as many enemy soldiers as you can,” Dimitri says. “You have five minutes.”</p><p>Felix’s body jerks as he struggles against the order, but the magic in his blood is already starting to take hold, and his hands start to tremble with the effort of holding back.</p><p>“Do it,” Dimitri says, and Felix’s eyes go glassy and cold, and his hand clenches around the hilt of his sword. He turns on his heel and stalks through the field, more fey creature than man as he crosses the broken earth, and Dimitri forces himself not to look away as his blade catches the light. </p><p>Felix is more methodical like this, twisting and shifting like a puppet on a string, and the path he cleaves through the emperor’s soldiers grows thick with the scrambling bodies of those too quick to claim a merciful death. When he’s done, when the last soldiers break their defenses and run for the safety of the woods, Felix stops. He’s breathing hard—His long hair hangs loose from its ties, swinging in his face and curling over his shoulders—and when the first crossbow bolt strikes him, he doesn’t do more than jerk before he rights himself again. Another bolt hits him in the shoulder, and he stumbles. He pushes himself upright, then carefully folds his cloak to clean the blade of his sword. </p><p>He remains standing until Dimitri finds him, still staring into the growing dark of the woods.</p><p>“You did well,” Dimitri says. He raises a hand to touch Felix’s uninjured shoulder, but Felix twitches out of the way.</p><p>“Hey, man.” Sylvain is sweating in armor too heavy for a skirmish in the woods, and his bright red hair is tied back with a scarf that Dimitri is fairly sure belongs to one of the young women he’s seen sneaking out of Sylvain’s quarters in the early morning. He doesn’t touch Felix, just snaps his fingers under Felix’s nose, and laughs at the dark scowl he gets in return.</p><p>“Let’s go back and get that shoulder looked at,” he says. “Then we can tell those pretty girls in that new acting troupe that we fought an ogre and survived.”</p><p>“There wasn’t an ogre,” Felix says, in a low voice. “And I’m not interested.”</p><p>“There was that ogre two years back,” Sylvain says, turning Felix around. Sylvain’s gaze slides over Dimitri, dull and vague, but his smile is bright as he chatters in Felix’s ear. Felix stares down at Sylvain’s hand on his arm. Dimitri takes a step back, and Sylvain walks Felix off the field, through the bodies that Dimitri’s soldiers are checking for signs of life, knives ready for a mercy blow.</p><p>Dimitri doesn’t intend to seek them out, later. He’s simply tired of watching the fire pop and crack against the overcast sky, tired of celebrating small victories when the emperor remains sprawled on her throne, directing her troops across Dimitri’s land. He’s tired of seeing shapes in the fire, hands grasping in the dirt, mouths panting in pools of blood, eyes unblinking. Dedue notices, of course, opens his mouth to speak, but Dimitri brushes his pointed look aside and rises to his feet.</p><p>He hears them on the outskirts of camp, near the storage tents where Dimitri goes when the voices of the dead grow too restless to ignore. Felix’s voice is sharp, urgent, and Dimitri quickens his pace until he sees a bare arm in the darkness, a scarred hand gripping the edges of a crate. </p><p>“I’m not one of your girls,” Felix snaps. “Don’t treat me like one.” Dimitri pauses for breath as moonlight slides over Felix’s bandaged shoulder. His hair hangs in his face, a dark, tangled mess against his shoulders and neck, and the muscles of his bare legs bunch as he lifts himself a few inches off Sylvain’s lap. Sylvain laughs softly and presses a kiss to Felix’s collarbone.</p><p>“We don’t all like it fast and rough,” Sylvain says. “Some of us like to take our time.”</p><p>“Then you can take your time somewhere else,” Felix says. He tries to rise on Sylvain’s cock, but Sylvain holds him fast, and Felix bites down on the join of his shoulder and neck. “Fucking move.”</p><p>“You’re too wild like this,” Sylvain says.</p><p>“Then shut up and fuck it out of me.”</p><p>“Yeah, love you, too.” Sylvain rolls his eyes.</p><p>Dimitri retreats from the tent as Sylvain gently lowers Felix onto his back, one hand holding him up so his injured shoulder doesn’t scrape the ground. Felix’s gaze drifts, lights on Dimitri, and Sylvain laughs, hand snaking between their bodies.</p><p>“You liked that? Really?” Felix doesn’t look away, and Dimitri can feel his eyes on him even as he passes out of sight, fleeing Sylvain’s amused voice. “Only you would get hard lying in the dirt, Felix. I need to introduce you to a proper bed sometime.”</p><p>Dimitri flings himself into his tent, far from the sounds of Sylvain taking Felix in the dark of the dry stores, and hastily unbuttons his cloak. The cold air is a blessing on his overheated skin, and he lets his clothes fall in an unruly heap. The water in the basin by his cot is lukewarm at best, but he tips it over himself regardless, trying to banish the thought of Felix with his sword in hand, Felix on his back, Felix panting and bloody at the edge of the woods. Perhaps the fae blood runs thicker in Felix than his brother, Dimitri thinks. Perhaps that explains why he’s so restrained, these days. So cold. It’s the human in him that makes him wild, whatever he may think of the fae.</p><p>Dimitri shivers in the dark of his tent, water spotting the canvas at his feet, and unties his eyepatch. The world goes blurred at the edges, but it’s too dark for his bad eye to do more than warp the corner of his vision and make him stumble into the bed. He runs his hands through his hair and reaches for a cloth just as the flap to the tent twitches open.</p><p>“For fuck’s sake,” Felix says. Dimitri doesn’t move to cover himself—It’s Felix who chose to burst in uninvited—but Felix turns to the side like a scandalizes noble at a soirée, mouth drawn in a tight line. </p><p>“Most of my soldiers announce themselves,” Dimitri says. It’s as close to an admonition as he gets, these days, and Felix knows him well enough to bristle ever so slightly.</p><p>“I figured you had orders.” Felix doesn’t look at him. “I saw you, back there.”</p><p>“If I had orders, I would have told you,” Dimitri says. When Felix doesn’t move, he sits down and starts toweling himself off. </p><p>“Like you did this afternoon.” Dimitri shrugs, and Felix huffs out a harsh breath. “You don’t even care. It was an order. A direct order. You swore, when we were young, you would never—“</p><p>“You were the right tool for the occasion,” Dimitri says. He doesn’t need this. Childhood promises mean nothing with Edelgard on the throne, with his family’s ghosts dogging his steps, whispering behind every sharp breath and muttered curse. He doesn’t need Felix with his hair tied up in a messy knot, clothes buttoned to the collar, wound so tight even after being fucked on the floor of a storage tent. He doesn’t need the memory of a boy who laughed like a true faerie, once, who didn’t view the blood as a curse. Someone who trusted him.</p><p>“A tool,” Felix says. He practically spits the word. “That’s what we all are to you, aren’t we?”</p><p>Dimitri just stares at him.</p><p>“Do you know what it is to be a knight of Fraldarius?” Felix snarls the name—Dimitri blinks slowly, watching the curl of his lip, the sharp flash of teeth. “You don’t step away when an order is made and wait for your body to finish up for you. You’re there for it, for every second of it.”</p><p>Felix is standing over him now, shadow sliding over his features, making him look like the wild, solitary folk of his ancestors. Dimitri wonders what that first ancestor had felt, the day his own grandfather bound them to his service. Not for the last time, he’s glad his father had made him give his first order to Felix, all those years ago. <i>Do no harm to me or mine.</i> Felix had laughed, then, because when would he ever think to hurt Dimitri?</p><p>Felix’s hands clench painfully at his sides.</p><p>“What do you want, Felix?” Dimitri asks. “I won’t apologize, if that’s it. I have need of you. I’ll have need of you again.”</p><p>“Then <i>ask,</i>” Felix says. “Don’t just take it from me. But perhaps that’s all a beast knows how to do.”</p><p>Dimitri raises a hand, and Felix tenses, just slightly, before Dimitri hooks his fingers in the laces of Felix’s shirtfront. “There was a time you would have given anything I asked, and freely.”</p><p>“No.” Felix jerks forward under Dimitri’s hand. “I would have given it to my king. But he died on the battlefield years ago.”</p><p>“That’s what you think is true, I’ll grant you,” Dimitri says. He twists his fingers slightly, and Felix grits his teeth. “But I think there’s something left in you that <i>wants</i> this. A duty to someone.”</p><p>“I don’t want—“</p><p>“You wouldn’t be here,” Dimitri says, “if you didn’t see something in me worth serving.”</p><p>“To hell with you,” Felix hisses, and he raises his hand, swings it back, and rocks on his heels. His jaw works slightly, and he wrenches his arm to his side. </p><p>“I’m going to give you an order,” Dimitri says. “Tell me what you came here for.”</p><p>Felix’s eyes are blazing with heat, and he opens his mouth twice before the words come. “I wanted you to fuck me,” he says at last, in a tight, terse voice. “Sylvain cares too much. He isn’t. Hard enough.”</p><p>Dimitri blinks.</p><p>“Oh.” He thinks of his old friend dressed in dark blue and grey, laughing at his early attempts at dancing across the polished ballroom of the Seelie Court. The boy he’d made promises to, who’d sworn his own oath of fealty, long ago. The weapon carving through the battlefield, boots caked with mud. “And you think I’ll be hard enough, then.”</p><p>Something aches at that, like an old wound just stirring in his chest. He tries to push it down, but Felix is staring at him, cheeks flushed, shoulders squared, and Dimitri tugs him close by his shirtfront. When he kisses him, it’s gentle, and Felix’s brow furrows.</p><p>“Alright,” Dimitri says, and Felix grabs him by the hair. </p><p>Felix kisses him like he’s drowning, lips parted, eyes closed, gasping when he comes up for air. He scoffs when Dimitri tries to gently untie his cloak and starts to do it for him, taking apart his clothes piece by piece until it’s just Felix with his thighs straddling Dimitri’s lap, Felix with a pale pink bite mark on his neck, with patches of a blush rising from his chest. Dimitri rolls him onto the cot, and understands why Sylvain would want him on a bed, in silk sheets and soft, dark curtains, taking their time.</p><p>“Go on,” Felix says, into Dimitri’s neck. “If you can’t take me like a king, take me like a beast. If that’s what you are.”</p><p>“I don’t know if I can,” Dimitri admits. “I’m no good at pretending, Felix.” He hitches up Felix’s hips with both hands, watches his eyes go dark. There are scars along Felix’s unbandaged shoulder, a mark of an animal, but he is surprisingly untouched for a warrior of his line. Dimitri runs his fingers over the set of scars, and Felix scowls.</p><p>“If I wanted gentle—“</p><p>“I know.” Dimitri kisses him anyways. But Felix is too solid beneath him, and he fumbles for the bag at his bedside, curls his fingers around an unused bottle at the bottom. In a perfect world, a world belonging to princes who didn’t need to wield their curse-given weapons, he wouldn’t need this yet. He would take his time, leave Felix gasping and desperate, smooth out the wrinkle in his brow—</p><p>“I don’t need that,” Felix says. His teeth scrape against Dimitri’s neck, and he bucks up, rutting his cock along Dimitri’s thigh.</p><p>“You’ll have it anyways,” Dimitri says. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”</p><p>Felix laughs, and the ache in Dimitri’s chest swells, painful and hot. But Felix is coating Dimitri’s cock with the oil, and his fingers are dexterous and skilled and just this side of too tight, enough to drag Dimitri out of his thoughts. Dimitri gives himself over to it, braces himself with his arms on either side of Felix’s head, and stares down into his blown-out eyes and twisted line of a mouth. Dimitri kisses him, gropes between them with one hand to line himself up, and Felix moans into his mouth as Dimitri enters him. He’s tight, even after Sylvain, a disaster of muscle and sinew and barely-repressed desire, and just for an instant, Dimitri <i>hates</i> him. Wants him. Misses him.</p><p>“Stop,” Felix says, and Dimitri freezes. Felix’s lips are still slightly parted, his face flushed, but he takes his clean hand and furiously swipes at Dimitri’s cheeks. His fingers come away damp, and Dimitri blinks down at him for a moment. “What—What gives you the right—“</p><p>“You always did hate it when I cried,” Dimitri says, and Felix practically growls.</p><p>“I don’t—“</p><p>Dimitri kisses him again, swallowing the sound of a truth he can’t bear to hear just yet, and Felix hooks his legs around him to urge him to move. He thrusts shallowly, watches Felix’s head tilt back on the bed, and runs his lips along Felix’s jaw. Felix makes a soft, breathless sound when Dimitri bottoms out, so he fucks it out of him a second time, a third, drinking in the aborted <i>Ah, ah</i> choking in Felix’s throat.</p><p>The first time Felix moans, it feels like a victory. Dimitri is sweating already, but Felix doesn’t seem to mind, choosing instead to rake his nails down Dimitri’s shoulders. Someone will hear. He knows this. He should care. A real king would care. A real king wouldn’t force an old friend to kill, wouldn’t fail the restless dead, wouldn’t—“</p><p>“Don’t do that,” Felix snaps, and Dimitri frantically removes his hands from where they’ve wandered to Felix’s thighs. Felix groans and rolls his eyes. “Fuck you. <i>Fuck</i> you. Let them go, just for a <i>fucking</i> second, why won’t you fucking <i>let them go.</i>” He drags Dimitri down, pressing his face to Felix’s injured shoulder, and Dimitri hears Felix’s harsh, labored breath in his ear.</p><p>“It happened,” Felix says. His voice is strained, almost cracking, and his fingers curl in Dimitri’s hair. “It happened. Let them go.”</p><p>“Okay,” Dimitri says. He struggles against the weight of Felix’s grip, and rises to look into his overbright eyes. “You can.”</p><p>Felix doesn’t answer. He just lets his head fall back again, closes his eyes, covers them with his uninjured arm. Dimitri hikes Felix’s hips up for him to get a better angle, and Felix lets out a sound Dimitri has only heard in his own head, low and almost plaintive.</p><p>“Okay,” Dimitri says again. He thrusts deep, making Felix shudder and curse. “Okay. You’re okay.” Felix clenches as he drives into him faster, chasing an end to this, a way out the other side and into a place where they can look at each other, after. Where Dimitri can lay Felix down with the care he deserves, where he can make him smile again. Maybe. Somewhere impossible.</p><p>Felix comes with a moan he hides behind his fist, and Dimitri kisses his knuckles, his shaking fingers, presses his lips to Felix’s upturned palm. Felix stares at him, too dazed with pleasure to glare properly, and there’s something of a twist to his mouth when Dimitri ducks his head and rides the crest of his own release.</p><p>They lie there a moment, sweating and panting as though they’ve just fought a duel in the field, before Dimitri rolls to his side. The crease in Felix’s brow is gone, and he actually meets Dimitri’s gaze without a flicker of his usual barely concealed disgust.</p><p>“Was that enough?” Dimitri asks.</p><p>Felix blinks slowly, and Dimitri shivers at the brush of fingers along his wrist.</p><p>“Don’t know,” Felix says. He pulls back his hand, leaving Dimitri grasping, and rises to face the dark beyond Dimitri’s tent. “Guess we’ll have to find out.”</p>
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